The Psychic and The Narrator
by CarltonLassiterPD
Summary: HOW DO YOU RUN FROM YOUR OWN STORY? TWO UNLIKELY FRIENDS HAVE TO PAIR UP IN ORDER TO WORK, NO HENRY, NO GUS, NO OHARA, NO P.D. ONLY LASSITER AND SHAWN, WHAT HAPPENS WHEN ONE HOLDS THE OTHER'S LIFE IN THEIR HANDS, AND THE OTHER IS DOING THE SAME, WILL THEY LEARN TO TRUST EACHOTHER, OR WILL THAT BE BROKEN BEFORE IT EVEN BEGINS?


"The Psychic and the Narrator."

A true story -Chapter 1

A candle lit the aging paper, and ink spilt onto its edge with a distinct splashing-dripping pattern. With a soft melody he hummed, and a light stroke of the pen, he began his note to the psychic. He knew that this would be his greatest story ever narrated, and he wanted to be sure the wheels were set just right. He looked over at the slowly melting candle with an aged and gentle grin, and slowly and lowly chuckled to himself. The trick was the writer's block. What was he going to write? Which way would he write it? But there, in his confusion did the most precious thought come, who's style did scare the man so, other than his greatest foe, Yin. So decided, he grinned again, placing other page in the trash, he began the new note, but at the start, he did write the Psychic's name, Shawn.

There once was a detective that liked to frown,

Who would turn the psychic's world upside down,

He didn't say much and alas was too tough,

And the bastard did seem to play rough,

Well the little Psychic had way too much fun,

And gave this Detective a nice little run,

but when this fun just didn't last,

Well then, it'll be quite a blast.

-The Narrator.

And with that, it was only up to him to deliver this note, but what stopped him was whom, to whom should it be given. Shawn would surely blow it off, but Lassiter- ...Lassiter's ego would not allow such notes to be written. People might get the wrong idea about him and the "little psychic" and after all, he is the big bad wolf of the P.D. Where to deliver the note, the house? Or would that be far too bold, his office, his desk, or would the detective's camera's be his down fall, the choices, they were far too many- perhaps, if he stumbled upon it. Then it would surely make an impression. So with glee, the Narrator rose, and licked the bitter end of the envelope, and wrote CARLTON LASSITER on the front of the envelope, and sat on his balcony, waiting and watching for the blue Ford Fusion to come driving past.

When at last, did the Ford Fusion arrive, the man held out an ancient hand and released the envelope to the wind, and watched with a smirk as it made its way, down, down, through the breeze, and the birds, and the utter calamity down below, and landed itself, smack down on, "Oscar the Grouch"'s windshield.

The car pulled off the side, and a slightly pissed off, and pepper haired Detective stormed out of the car, with a slam of the door. He gritted his teeth and grabbed hold of the envelope. "I should fine what ever sick twisted- ….This is directed too me..." He said, turning his head around to the sides. "But what son of a-" A sudden glance to his watch made him pale, and he shoved the note in a pocket. - You know, dearest reader, it is said by Plutarch himself, that when Caesar, Julius Gaius Caesar died, he was holding the very note, that was too save his life.

"Mcnab!" Lassiter demanded with a nod at the gentle giant.

"Yes sir?" Mcnab asked with flattered curiosity.

"Here, this is mail I found on my windshield, read it for me, I don't have time I am working on my cases, and a good Detective always, and I mean, ALWAYS pays attention to work above all el-" He was quite quickly interrupted.

"Sir, I...I think this is a threat. To you, and Shawn." Buzz said shocked.

"Let me see it!" Lassiter snapped, but Buzz had walked off to get it's handwriting analyzed, but what Buzz Mcnab did not know, was that the Narrator was to clever to give him his handwriting and be discovered, no what Buzz would soon find out would be much more, interesting.

Come triumphantly down the hall, was a child in form of a man, he had long brown hair, that was mildly impressive, and a smile to match his ridiculous dressing. Yet out of the corner of his eye, the Psychic spotted the age-old paper sticking out of Mcnab's large hand. "Hey there Buzz."

The gentle giant smiled politely. "Hey Shawn, I'm terribly sorry, but I should really get this to the lab."

"No No, I'll bring it down for you buddy." Shawn smiled, with a more devious plan in mind.

"Really? Gee, thanks Shawn." Buzz grinned flattered. Hold out the note, which Shawn snatched up quickly and began to read, but an ominous shadow loomed over him.

"Just what in the hell do you think you're doing Spencer!"

Shawn jumped startled tossing the note too which Lassie caught. "I-I uhm...I was just running this down to the lab for Buzz here."

"It's true, sir." Buzz grinned.

"Shut it Mcnab! And that's illegal reading another man's mail Spencer, if I didn't have 20 more things to do I would have arrested you for opening another person's mail!"

Shawn thought quickly. "Someone's touching your car, Lassie!" HE grabbed the note quick and bolted.

"YOU SON OF A-" Lassiter stormed the other way pulling out his revolver. He cocked it pulling down on the hammer and making sure the magazine was clicked in place all the way. He aimed at the sky and pulled the trigger twice both times with a thunderous uproar from the metal itself. Lassiter glared at a strange man standing at his car's hood.

Shawn finally came to a rest at the end of the alley, and began to catch his breath, when he noticed a small note with his name on it. Excited and intrigued by it, and more than a little interested he opened it and began to read.

The Poor little Psychic thought it'd be best,

To put the Narrator too the test,

To just go run and hide,

But this is about more than your silly pride,

He reads the note and wonders how I,

I could possibly know,

Where it is that this Psychic guy,

Would hide down here end of the road,

The pieces are not yet all in play,

And all this is, is a game,

And if you do not wish to play,

Than you will gladly do the same,

The detective now finds a man by his car,

And yes how suspicious things are,

But if you don't go,

Than at last you will know,

How real these games really are.

-The Narrator.

Shawn thought to himself and he thought long and hard, -My dad, maybe he or Gus will know who this guy is, but he mentioned lassie...Lassie just ran too his car!

The psychic ran as fast as he could to where it was that his friend had gone, and quickly looked around for anyway to get Lassiter away from the man that the "Narrator" said would be there. He spotted a rock and sighed. Picking it up, he whirled it through the air, wailing Lassiter's back and exclaiming loudly, "YOU'LL NEVER CATCH ME ALIVE COPPER!"

As the detective turned to look and glare at Shawn a crack split the air and the detective was sent to his knees, and with in the blink of an eye that assailant was missing into a horde of people who had gathered to watch Lassiter's display of aggression.

Shawn ran over to the Salt and Pepper detective's side and a look of worry washed over his face. "Are you shot?" He asked scared. " You were supposed to run after me!" He pointed out.

Lassiter shooed him away a bit, "No I'm fine, some freak told me to wear my vest today, that I was going to be shot, I took him seriously thank God, but if you ever throw anything at me again, than I will not hesitate too shoot you as well Spencer."

"Agree to disagree."

"That doesn't even make sense."

"OK what ever."

"You know, I believe you're psychic now."

"That isn't the Detective Carlton Lassiter I know. Did someone put you up to saying that?"

"No." he glared. "It kills me to say this, but you're my fr-...fr-.."

"Friend."

"That. And I now trust you, and now that I trust you, I have to believe you're psychic, but if I find out you're lying to me...I'll shoot you and won't even blink."

With that the detective disappeared into the P.D. To track down the man that shot him.

Shawn sat down upon the stairs, and noted a note next to him, he sighed deeply as he began to read, already slightly annoyed by the notes.

"Tick Tock, Tick Tock,

Until he figures out,

That you are a cheap knock,

Knock off, so you better shout,

Warn him, Warn him now,

Before he figures you out,

Warn him, Warn him how,

You lied to him without a doubt.

-The Narrator.

"Oh. My. God. okay, Obviously, you can hear me. Right? RIGHT? So, If you want to kill me, make your move; because this is ridiculous, and a waste of my precious time. Just..lead me somewhere dark and scary and do the god damn dead." Shawn stood up looking in all directions.

A voice, seemingly from no where spoke up, "We both know this isn't about murder."

"Ah, So it makes sense now, you're "gifted" too. What are you, jealous or something?"

" I just want to screw both of you up. You see, you'll be too upset that big bad, Lassiter hates you, and Lassie will never let anyone close to him ever again, and I ...well...I'll get away with you both gone..C'mon really, I break out pout-y lips and tears, and O'Hara will believe a sob story. And Mcnab if you ask the right way, will let you get away with murdering his own mother." "You're not really a psychic, you're a fraud, and I'm going to expose you for what you really are. Good day Mr. Spencer. By the way, that saying, never trust a man with two first names proves true, huh?"

"I'm psychic God dammit!"


End file.
